We Be Of One Blood, Thou and I
by you-need-imagination
Summary: After years apart, childhood friends Eames and Mal find each other again.


**We Be Of One Blood, Thou and I**

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Mal had been strolling along the snow-covered streets of New York for half an hour. It wasn't bitterly cold but she hid her nose beneath her scarf.

She was restless and impatient and her levels of excitement were bursting. He was supposed to call her when his plane touched down. It landed hours ago. Well, not hours ago but with every minute that passed felt like an hour to her. She ached to reacquaint him with her senses.

He had called her two days ago from Kokrobite- she knew he would be in Africa- and her stomach had been in knots ever since. They hadn't seen each other for years as he was constantly on the move and it was so difficult to keep in touch with him.

It would be typical of him to miss his flight. She could imagine him going out for a few lethal drinks before his plane left, only to start chatting up a silly, young thing who he'd fall deeply in love with and be convinced they were destined to be together until the stars fell from the sky. Then a week later, he'd be on the phone, telling her that he was coming to see her after all.

The fluffy flakes started to fall, and she entertained the idea of heading back to her apartment when a shout came from behind her. "Oi! Princess!"

She knew his voice and she swirled around, her heart thundering. Sauntering towards her, with a huge, many pocketed rucksack over his shoulder was Eames. Eames. Her best friend, the person she had known the longest after her parents. It felt like someone had injected her with sunshine and she started walking quickly towards him, smiling broadly.

As she got nearer she saw that despite his golden tan, he was grey with jetlag. Dark circles ringed his bright eyes. His face was smattered with stubble and his travelling clothes- long surfer shorts with a dashiki containing every shade of the rainbow- were all creased.

Eames shed his rucksack, dropped his bag and bent with his arms open as Mal leapt on to him. He caught her and she wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck, squeezing him tight.

"Jesus, Mal," he gasped. "What are you trying to do, break a rib?" Mal giggled in to his neck. She inhaled his scent of salt and tangy oranges and found herself unable speak. She was so overwhelmed of having him back safe. Looking totally outrageous but safe.

She finally pulled back to look at his face. He was smiling brightly. His big, awestruck eyes were flicking all over face. "Look at you," he said. "Look at you!"

"How did you find me?" she exclaimed, her voice shrill with utter joy.

"I followed the smell." Mal scowled and he shot her a wide, cheeky grin. "I gave your old man a jingle. He told me you were set up somewhere round here. Wanted to surprise you." He settled her back on the floor and he started shivering immediately.

"You look ridiculous." He glanced down at himself, then returned his gaze to her. He didn't seemed to have noticed until she pointed it out. He shrugged.

"Came straight from the beach and my flight was so early there was no point going to sleep."

"God, you're still impossible."

"And you haven't changed either, Pet."

Even though it wouldn't make much difference, Mal took off her scarf and wrapped it around Eames's neck. He thanked her as he hoisted up his rucksack. She took his smaller bag and they set off.

"So, how is life in the New World, my mon petit crème brûlée?" Eames asked. "Never thought I'd be seeing you this side of the Atlantic."

"It's lovely. Your French is still terrible."

"Actually, I have been polishing up on it."

Mal released a laugh of disbelief. "Flipping through a dictionary, looking up swearwords?"

"No, no, no, nothing so uncouth. But I'll bet you a nickel, that I can knock your socks off with my new, profound knowledge of the French language."

"Go on then." She plucked out the small, silver coin from her coat pocket and rolled it between her thumb and index finger.

Eames grinned wickedly. "Puis voici mon coeur, qui ne bat que pour vous," he looked up, trying to remember, "ne le déchirez pas avec vos deux mains blanches et qu'à vos yeux si beaux l'humble présent soit doux." He knew had pronounced everything correctly by the way Mal was struggling to suppress her smile.

"You win," she said with amusement, passing him his winning nickel.

"Ooh, goodie. Aren't you impressed?"

"A little," admitted Mal. "Who have you been charming into bed with that?"

His grin expanded, crinkling his eyes. "A gent never tells."

"When did you become a gentleman, Eames?"

As if to prove his point, he held out his arm for Mal to link. She wrapped her arm around his. They slipped in a quiet moment, watching the snowflakes dance in a wintry ballet as they enjoyed each other's closeness. Mal couldn't help but sigh.

"So, what happy gale blew you to America from ol' Pari?"

Mal curled her rose petal lips into a subtle smile. She knew she was blushing and she cast down her eyes.

"Oh! Oh, I see. Cupid has slain you with his arrow."

Her cheeks turned scarlet and she looked away.

"Bloody hell, it is serious. What's his name? "

Mal cleared her throat. "Dominic."

"Well, I won't sleep until I meet him."

"You can meet him when we get back."

"Can I?" Eames raised his brows. "And, does he not mind you having your little orphan friend invade his kingdom?"

"So long as you behave, no, not at all."

"Brilliant. I like him already." Eames made a pensive face and inhaled deeply. "You have my blessing."

"Oh, thank goodness!" Mal said sarcastically. "What a relief!" Although it was. It would be difficult to have a relationship someone Eames didn't approve of. She would still date them, but it wouldn't feel right.

"Come on then. Lead the way. It's still bloody cold out here, and I, for one, would like to get inside."

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Yay or nay? Please let me know what you think.

The title comes from Rudyard Kipling's 'The Jungle Book.' "'We be of one blood, thou and I,' Mowgli answered, 'my kill shall be thy kill if ever thou art hungry.'"

"Puis voici mon coeur…." Here's my heart, which beats for you only. Let you not tear it up with your white hands, as humble gift it's for your eyes lovely." From 'Green' by Verlaine

**Disclaimer**: I own zip.

Thank you for reading :) xx


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